The Third Child
by Poison Apples
Summary: Unceremoniously dumped on Bruce Wayne, can the new kid make sense of a world that even its inhabitants rarely understand? Ah, the joys of teenagerdom. Not an OC.
1. Chapter 1

Welp, here goes:

* * *

The Third Child:

"No really. I think it would be good for you. And seriously, he's perfectly qualified. He can take down all the big baddies, and he doesn't like to kill…yet. And man, can he brood with the best of them. I mean, my god, he's perfect. Although, you might want to skip the Robin phase and go straight on to the Nightwing costume. Living without parents for so long probably gave him a little attitude problem. Only a little one, I swear. Please, I promise you won't regret it."

It was, he decided, a very good thing that the Flash wore a mask and thus could not learn do that abominable stare. Furthermore, where had she picked it up was beyond him. It was impossible to beat. And so, against his better judgment, he found himself agreeing.

"Fine, I'll give him a trial run." Then, puppy eyes or not, he fixed her with one of his you-will-tell-me-what-I-need-to-know glares, "but one screw up, just one, and he's out."

Her only response was to smile. Typical.

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So this was the new kid, huh? Rather scrawny and small to be a superhero. And he looked a bit young…

"Age?"

"13"

Interesting. Apparently, he was well-versed in the art of monosyllabic answers as well. Wherever had she found him? Wait a minute. 13? And she wanted him to go right to the more adult Nightwing costume? Then again, hmmm. The Robin color scheme did seem too bright for his complexion, and as a connossieur of bright colors and costumes, she would know. But, would Nightwing fit? Not just physically, but could a 'tween actually be that foreboding? Perhaps it was time to track down Selena Kyle; she always did have more fashion sense…in everything but her own costume, of course.

* * *

"Well, what do you think?"

"I have to admit. You've outdone yourself this time, Ms. Kyle."

"Oh Bruce, no need to stand on formality. After all, what's a couple of names between…friends."

He diplomatically detangled her hands before they could cause an international incident. "Ah but this is strictly business, and I never mix business with pleasure. So,"

Her pouting lip disappeared, and a more adult frown took its place. "Well, Bruce, I would like to think that this was a favor between acquaintances, but if you must know," she leaned in close to his ear, "I have heard of an exquisite series of paintings being put on display at the Gotham Art Museum next week. If you could just look the other way, I'd call us even."

He glared at her, almost positive she was joking. She couldn't be serious? She was smiling-yes, she was joking. Great.

Even better, the new protégé was smirking as well. Did no one respect the Dark Knight anymore? Clearly his glare had no effect.

* * *

The plane ride back was just as quiet as the plane ride there.

He supposed she was right: They did suit each other. Both were anti-social recluses. Alfred would have his work cut out for him trying to make the two attend the necessary amount of social functions necessary to keep Bruce Wayne alive and out of suspicion.

Bruce flicked his eyes over to the kid. Damn, he was quiet. No self-respecting teenager should ever be that quiet. Dick could barely sit still, and Tim, even less so. Usually, they had so much electronics set up, and plugged in within five minutes of sitting down that they were almost as unreachable as Superman in his Fortress. But, all this kid was doing was staring at the window. Bruce's eyes widened; if the kid was brooding again…what could he possibly be brooding about. Nothing in his short life could warrant that much…well, there were some things, he allowed. Wait, the kid's eyes weren't in that scowling, leave-me-alone-with-my-pain position he used to see in front of a mirror, but were actually wider than usual. In fact, if Bruce didn't know any better, he would say the kid looked almost panicked. Of what, flying?

His eyes moved forward again, and he closed his eyes. If the poor kid was afraid of flying, there was no way he would make it on the job. Slowly he began to visualize himself in costume; wasn't that hard, really, he spent so much time in it already. He reflexively reached for a compartment on his utility belt, and slipped out a brown-backed card face down. On the other side was a picture of a girl dressed very oddly and in a pose that looked almost impossible to hold in real life. Silently, he called her name, a summoning she couldn't refuse.

"Karmen."

And suddenly she was there, oddly dressed and cheerful as always. "Yes?"

"How did you expect for this situation to work out if he's afraid of flying?"

She cocked her head to the left, "He's not afraid of flying. Maybe it's the airplane? Maybe you should ask him, and learn a bit more about him before yelling at me. Maybe," now she was almost gone, her voice a whisper camouflaged by the airplane's engines, "you should try to remember his name."

And suddenly, the meeting was over, and his eyes were open, and, most disorientating of all, he was standing. In the aisle. Next to…the kid. He really didn't know his name. Must be getting old, Bruce, never happened before. He was so deeply in thought that he almost missed the kid's eyes flickering to his reflection in the window. Almost.

He took the next few seconds of silence as an invitation and sat down in the aisle seat. Usually he met his wards on some traumatic or adrenaline pumping adventure, so having Karmen almost literally dump the kid on him, while he was dressed as Batman, no less, made for a change of pace.

But, he never knew how to start conversations, only finish them. So, he just started.

"Planes are actually very safe. They don't really malfunction and, even if they did, there are so many safety precautions in place that it would be okay."

"How do they work?"

"What?"

"How do they work?" The kid turned to glare, er, look at him. That was one menacing look. But back on track, he really didn't know that much about planes, only the basics. That would have to do.

* * *

Surprisingly enough, Bruce Wayne's allegedly small cache of information on aerodynamics and the inner workings of airplanes lasted the rest of the flight. Like most other information, Bruce Wayne knew a lot more than he let on, or perhaps even more than he thought he knew.

And his partner was, as Karmen had suspected, only afraid of planes. Not flight. Why, Bruce wondered, did it seem like he had never flown on a plane before? But beneath his tough exterior, he was a good listener and willing to learn. At least, better than Dick in his late teenage years. Except, dammit, he still couldn't remember the kid's name.

End Chapter 1

So how was it?

I feel like I'm forgetting something. Ooh, right, the Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Batman, (they belong to DC) and "the kid" belongs to somebody else, I will not say, as that will ruin who he is.

There were some slight clues, but maybe next chapter.

Also some parts may be slightly off, my bad. I apologize. Please notify me so I can fix ASAP.


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter: Woot

Thanks for the lovely reviews.

Also, I forgot to mention in the last chapter, Karmen is one of my OC's. She doesn't play a monumental part in the story, except she is the "external force" that brought Bruce Wayne and "the kid" together. I really am horrible at doing random wormholes or coming up with scientific explanations that are semi-sound to explain them. So sorry about the confusion.

Also, time-wise, I suppose this is after the incidents saw in Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker. So Tim's in therapy, and the rest of the group is barely on speaking terms with Bruce, or Batman. As for the JLU…meh. So in regards to causal mentions of Tim last chapter, enough time has passed that the name itself won't bring up much guilt or bad memories.

And as the title says, I am ignoring Jason Todd because he never shows up in the series. So there. However, I did spend some time doing exhaustive Wikipedia research.

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The next week went by very quickly. Odd. Usually, between cases the days and nights dragged. Plagued by miniscule business issues during the day, and an incurable insomnia brought on by obsession in the night, without Batman taking up so much of his energies, the man known as Bruce Wayne was bored. This time, however, something else occupied his time.

His new ward.

"The kid" as he fondly had nicknamed him, (it seemed to irritate him to no end) did have incredible fighting skills. In their first sparring match, Bruce, who was used to coaxing the best out of amateur and mimicked moves, found himself on the defensive more than once. Being honest with himself, he had enjoyed the workout, and the challenge of a good fight that if he lost would not end his death or crippling injury.

As for weapons, he seemed to very quickly master the batarangs. Actually, he learned more than quickly. It was uncanny how well he could preciscely aim and throw them; almost as if he had been used to throwing sharp and pointy objects his entire life. And what kind of lifestyle that implied, Bruce didn't really want to know.

Yet in everything else, the more mundane things, that were never really problems before, were now huge issues.

School, for instance. The kid had a pretty accurate grasp of most subjects stuck under the massive category of science. He was far beyond any of his peers in math. Those skills were balanced out by the fact that he knew next to nothing about history and had only avery sketchy grasp of the most basic technology. He had no idea who Shakespeare was, but could read and write like any normal thirteen-year old. And obviously, being Batman's partner, his social skills weren't up to par with a five-year old. So home-schooling it was. At least until the kid could be integrated into Gotham Private School.

But it was strange, he reflected. The fact that the kid was an excellent fighter and was barely educated pointed to someone who had grown up in a lawless town, or on the streets, with no money or parents to protect him. Yet the kid hadn't seem impressed at all with Wayne Manor or its rather grandiose style. And the kid could write and read, so perhaps he had been rich and then became rather poor very suddenly and traumatically. No, that couldn't be it; the kid had seemed just as surprised as Bruce was that he was able to read or write.

And then there was the way he ate. Rather hesitatingly, as if he was unsure of the utensils he was holding and their uses. And the way he glanced at Bruce to make sure that he was eating the food the right way. Or that the food was okay to eat. Bruce snorted. As if Alfred would ever mis-prepare food or allow food of a lower quality to leave his kitchen.

Back on track though: Something was definitely off about the kid. Selina probably knew. They had spent a week at her manor while the kid's suit was created and made. But Selina would make him pay dearly for the information, and probably with more than money. Not that money wouldn't be involved, and it wasn't like he couldn't afford it, it was just that he didn't want to have to admit, to Selina, of all people that Batman's detective skills were slipping so much that he couldn't even figure out the secrets of his own ward.

That left the kid himself, and Karmen. The kid was as close-lipped as Bruce ever was, and probably had only a vague idea of what had happened between Karmen finding and befriending him, and getting dumped here. As for Karmen, she undoubtedly knew what was going on, but would probably only give him half-answers, or answers that only made sense to someone with her mental state, a very unique one at that. But although Karmen probably wouldn't give him answers, she might give answers to the Justice League. But they hadn't really spoken after…well, there wasn't much to say afterwards.

On the other hand, his curiosity would continue to eat away at him. He supposed that just this once, he could swallow a little bit of his pride to have the Justice League condescend and talk to him about the dangers of having another ward. Although he would not unbend enough to go the Watchtower to talk to them. The League would also be less than pleased if he revealed how little he knew about his third ward. So he had to make the League, or at least part of it, come to Gotham. And the only way to do that…a smile graced his features. Time to go patrolling.

* * *

Sorry, it's so short, but I wanted to post this and this was a good place to end this chapter, otherwise it would have dragged on.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except perhaps the crossover idea and Karmen.

Also, to all my reviewers: thanks so much: You guys are awesome. I'm just worried that when I actually reveal who the new "Robin" is, you'll all be like "oh, she's into that mainstream stuff. Even worse, she jumped on the bandwagon…Great." I hope that doesn't happen, and I would like to say that I have not jumped on the bandwagon (I hope), but am only running besides it.


	3. Let the Questioning Begin!

If he seems a b it OOC, I think there is a time for snarky Batman, and a serious one. This situation called for serious Batman…If only my writing style recognized that.

* * *

Bruce had to admit: the kid's suit looked good. Odd design and color scheme, but nonetheless able to blend into shadow, which since this was really a practice patrol, and not a hunting one, was perfectly alright. Even if the kid didn't have an alter-ego name yet.

Not only did the kid's costume fit, but the moves as well. Like Bruce, he was economical, and yet graceful. Even more interesting, their moves were almost perfectly synchronized. Each time he shot of his grappling hook, his new apprentice was right there beside him. It couldn't be coincidence; one more question to ask Karmen.

One more question that would have to wait, as well. The Justice League didn't seem willing to make an appearance. Perhaps he should start moving to the more shady part of town, and start teaching the kid some tricks even he couldn't possibly know. He paused on a rooftop, to think for a moment. The last thing he needed was to leap straight into a telephone pole. Then came that unmistakable sound: the teleporter. Cape swirling in what had to be a practiced move, Batman turned to face…Hawkgirl (or Shayera Hol as she was now known) and Green Lantern.

J'onn had picked an interesting team to talk to the Dynamic Duo. Arms crossed over his chest, Green Lantern has on his army drill sergeant face, the one that had earned him the nickname "Emerald" by the new recruits. Shayera looked a bit more motherly and gentle without her mask, but her fierce grip on her infamous mace belied any such ideas. She was armed, she was dangerous, and she was letting Green Lantern take the lead.

"Batman," Green Lantern, paused, clearly waiting for some acknowledgement. Batman decided to help him out.

"Yes?"

No preamble. He just went straight into a speech. "J'onn saw that you-"

"Saw? J'onn's been watching me?"

"We were worried about you." So Hawkgirl was going to participate in the conversation. "Everyone knows you don't deal with loss well, and after," a spasm of human emotion crossed Bruce Wayne's face, "everything that's happened to you, we…" She trailed off, allowing Batman to regain control.

"You what? Didn't think that I could take care of myself? What did you think Shayera-that I would start killing criminals left and right? Set myself up as some sort of Justice Lord of Gotham? Even if I wanted to, I don't have that type of power. I'm not some blood-thirsty vigilante whose as violent as the criminals. No Shayera, I'm not like you."

_SLAP_

The power behind the slap rocked him back on his heels. He regained his balance and lifted his head. Only to meet Green Lantern's impassive stare. "Can't you see we're trying to help you?" Green Lantern had taken up the thread of conversation. He gestured towards the kid. "Getting a new ward isn't going to change anything. Replacing Tim with a new face won't wipe away the memories. A dead body in the alley won't help at all. You need to let go. Your family was broken, but substituting a new Robin for the old one won't solve the problem. Let the League help. Let _us _help."

Batman had heard enough. "You can help. By leaving. Now. Unlike some people, we have innocents to save and crimes to stop." He turned away. As he had all night, the kid mirrored his actions. Actually, it was the first move he had made since the conversation began. The kid definitely was not Robin material-they were too inquisitive by nature. This kid was probably burning with questions, but nothing showed on his face. Before the two could leave, both were attacked from behind. With hugs. Bear hugs, to be exact. Nothing neither of them couldn't get out of, (Batman had made sure of that before he had taken the kid patrolling), but from the way his stomach was feeling, moving around too much in the middle of being teleported was a bad idea.

-

Of course, that didn't stop him from throwing him/ her?-a brush of wings- her off of him the second they were all solid. A matching "oof" from Green Lantern told Bruce that his apprentice had done the same. But when the kid looked at him questioningly, Bruce nodded. A head tilt to the side, and flicker of eyes behind the domino mask, "Space station," Bruce clarified. "The Watchtower."

"Batman!" A smiling Wonder Woman rushed up the stairs, her hand raised in greeting. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"I assure you Wonder Woman, I'm not here out of choice." Smiling, suave, debonair Bruce Wayne was gone, leaving only Batman behind the mask. Her smile fell, and then, came back on when her eyes alighted on his ward. She walked over to him, and knelt with her hands on his shoulders. Although that made her shorter than he was, it was better than being talked down to by some Amazon (literally) of a woman. "Hi. I'm Wonder Woman. What's your name?" Okay, so the kid was short. And next to Batman, looked even shorter, but that was no reason to treat him like a seven-year old.

"That's something we would all like to know." A very, very familiar voice called out. Superman, leading the rest of the founding members, was walking towards them. "However, perhaps somewhere a bit more private." A bit of a smile, and an understanding tone. "I know some of us can be a bit protective of our secret identities."

Batman was having none of it. "Right here is fine." Right now, if he were on the other side of this little exchange, his eyes would be narrowed, his mind calculating. Someone of his nature did not give up the chance of privacy easily. Obviously, he had something planned. But, the rest of the founding seven just nodded. They clearly needed him back, desperately.

"Fine. So, you know why you are here. Let's start with an easy question." Superman's eyes flickered over to the kid, while focusing all his charisma on him, "What's his name?" Typical Batman silence. "Batman. I asked a question. What is his-" Suddenly, in a flicker of black, Batman's face was just inches from Superman. "Let's get one thing straight." He growled. "I, and my ward were forced up here against our will, and _I_ am under no obligation to answer your questions. Therefore, if you want to ask me questions, they had better be asked _politely._" Superman met him stare for stare, until an idea occurred. His arms, which before had been clenched at his side, now crossed over his chest, in his "stern father" pose. "Batman, we have asked you politely, but since you won't cooperate, we'll have someone else tell us the information. This is your last chance Batman, to save some information for later."

Batman dismissed the threat. "I'll take my chances with whatever paranoid detective you drag out from among old newspaper clippings."

Superman smiled. "Oh, I think she's a bit more dangerous than some conspiracy theorist." He held out his hand, as if he were extending an invitation to the Watchtower to some invisible person, "Karmen."

* * *

And on that note, I'll end it here. I'm sorry, I lied. I told you Karmen wasn't important. And she's not that important. Only now. And I promise, next chapter the kid's name will be revealed, so last chance to take guesses. And I'm very sorry to end it here, but I wanted to get the chapter out as quickly as possible.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or the JLU, or the kid, but they all belong to different creators.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry about the long wait, but I realize that I have very little direction with this story, so whoopee! But, yeah, being on vacation backlog…hopefully. To clear up: Yeah, the kid is not an OC, as in I did not make him up, because I stink at that. However, he is not from the DC Universe because, the relationships there are convoluted enough. So yes Blueb, you were slightly right. It is a crossover. And the reviews I've gotten have been heartwarming and warm-fuzzy. So thanks everyone.

Disclaimer: The only things I think I own are Karmen and the story idea.

* * *

For a second or so, Superman stood there, looking rather ridiculous for the Man of Steel. Then, she was there. Confronted by the stares and glares of the Founding Seven and one apprentice, she got right down to it.

"Hey guys. And girls. Wasup?"

Superman took the lead, "we need your help with something."

"That's why I'm here. What's the problem?"

The Flash picked up the conversation, "well. Batman has a new app-"

A squeal interrupted him. "Oooh. Batman's here!" Completely disregarding the rest of the "supers," she turned towards Batman, all the while her eyes were darting as if making some quick calculations, or seeing something visible only to her (which being Karmen, was entirely possible). Her eyes refocused on Batman, "you sly dog. Congratulations though. And you," turning her eyes to the silent teen standing to the right side of Batman. Her eyes lit up, and in a flash of pink, she was, as some would say, molesting him. Others, more polite, might call it invading personal space. To Karmen, she was just checking out his costume.

"I love it! She does wonderful work, doesn't she? Anyway, the blues and grays and black look lovely and really blend together. Like wow! And I love how you still got to incorporate your old stuff, like the fan right there. Subtle but still there." And going lower (the utility belt) and with a softer voice, "I'm glad you still chose your home. That's good."

A cleared throat saved the kid from having a permanent blush. "So you do know who he is?"

Karmen whirled back to face the founding members, "Of course I do. He's Bluebird!" If anyone had glanced at Batman, at that moment, they would have seen a smirk. Or at least a glimmer of one. "And no," she continued, turning back to face the newly named 'Bluebird,' "you can't be Raven because black makes your skin look disgusting and white, and that would stand out. Furthermore, the name's taken. Oh. And also, in case you were wondering: everyone's doing fine in the village, and the rest of your team looks forward to you visiting. And yes, your house is still standing. No rabid fangirls have desecrated it. But," she started brushing invisible dust of her shoulders, "its majorly dusty. How did you live there?"

* * *

Halfway across the room, Green Arrow was sitting on monitor duty with Black Canary. Finally, he spoke "I don't get it." Black Canary glanced at him, "Get what?" He pointed with his chin, "That. I haven't seen that girl here before. More importantly, how does she know them? Those are some of the biggest names in the superhero business, while Pinky there looks like she should still be selling cookies for the Girl Scouts."

A new voice joined the group. "And she looks a bit weak to even be a member of the Teen Titans. Know anything about her, babyface?" A man in a blue suit and fedora with no face held a chair back for Huntress. "Yes, actually. Her name's Karmen and she'll willingly tell you anything you want to know about her, within about a minute of introducing yourself. As for powers, she's a self-styled _mahou shoujo_, or "magical girl." Noticing the blank looks around the table, the Questions sighed. "It's a certain type of Japanese comic book super-hero, which explains the…odd costume and the physical weakness. From what I've gathered, the Big Seven mostly use her for information and as a messenger, but it seems this time, she's involved herself more directly in Batman's affairs."

Huntress was the first to recover from the relatively large amount of information, "Old grumpy-social-recluse? Seems like he could use someone straightening out his priorities."

"Actually, from what I can hear, she seems to be on his side."

* * *

"In conclusion, if any of you have any more issues, before _kidnapping_ someone, I wish you would pause and think about your actions. Now, if you don't mind, I'll escort these two back home where they can focus on saving innocents rather than hatching up idiotic theories." Her piece said, and her elevated vocabulary quota used up for the day, Karmen grabbed hold of two capes, and with a nod at the rest of the Founding Seven, she vanished, along with Batman and Bluebird.

* * *

Where three had left the Watchtower, two appeared on the rooftop where Batman had strategically paused to allow the JL to catch up to him just a mere twenty minutes ago. The kid looked around, but Batman interrupted his search. "Don't bother. Karmen typically leaves like this. It stops her from having to say a goodbye." The kid nodded his understanding. Woah. When was the last time he had actually spoken? Especially, with all that had happened tonight, and the name dropp-shit. They had mentioned Tim. Underneath the mask, Batman's brow furrowed in concentration. The kid would definitely need, and deserved an explanation. But not here, or anywhere out in the open. He turned towards Bluebird who was unsurprisingly, lounging against an AC vent as if waiting to be noticed. Who _was _this kid? "Look, you deserve an explanation . But not here. Can you wait until the end of patrol?" Bluebird nodded his assent and understanding once more. Batman, satisfied for the moment, fired off a grappling hook and swung off towards patrol. A second later, the kid followed suit.

* * *

A/N: Well, that was a crappy ending. Sorry guys. No revealing the name yet. But keep guessing. Instead you got a Karmen backstory…hurrah? Anyway, I'm also looking for a beta so if someone wanted to volunteer, that would be super-cool. Once again,so sorry about the long wait.


	5. Story Time

So, I know I'm taking freakin forever but I DID want this chapter beta'ed but its taking too long, so here is the new chapter, pretty much unedited. So, if you think there's a glaring mistake (characterization, continuity, etc) please tell me, so I can fix it. Anyway, one of my reviewers was CORRECT! Congratulations! You have no idea how relieved I was to see that he does actually fit. Thank goodness. Anyway, on to the story:

* * *

All in all, a pretty good night. None of the Gallery were out tonight so for once, Batman and his shadow were able to clean up the streets instead of just stopping them from getting worse.

All in all, a quiet night. Which was good, for although there was a certain appeal in helping clean up his beloved Gotham and bring back the town of his childhood, sometimes the stress would become too much. Even Batman has his limits.

Luckily, tonight he hadn't hit his. Then again, the true stress of the night hadn't even begun yet.

***

The Batmobile rolled to a complete stop and even before the top could finish pulling back, both Batman and Bluebird vaulted out of the car. Batman, for one, was impressed. The first time Bluebird had gotten into the car (earlier this evening-a typical mobster car chase) he had been just as…scared? as he was on the airplane. But with enough ins, speed though traffic, and outs, he had grown much more comfortable. Also, for a newbie, Bluebird had done really well on the whole keeping quiet, do-not-question-my-orders thing that was all a part of being Batman's sidekick.

Hopefully, tonight he would soon get the answers to the kid's behavior. Yet, how best to open such a touchy subject? Batman might usually never employ it, but he did, in fact, know the meaning of tact. Bruce pondered this problem as he changed into his nighttime attire: shirt, pants, and bathrobe, and hung up his costume. Bruce Wayne might be the head of all things vigilante in Gotham, but Alfred was the head of all things butler, which included Wayne Manor's housekeeper. And since the Bat Cave was under Wayne Manor…well, Bruce had only needed to receive one lecture on the proper handling of his "toys."

Refocusing on the problems at hand, he saw that the kid had also changed and hung up his costume. Without a word, he began the long trek back up the stairs to the Manor proper. He emerged into the sitting room, where a fire was already going, and two steaming mugs sat waiting, one by each armchair. With no one to see his face, Bruce smiled: No matter how the outside world's view on Batman changed, Alfred would always see plain "Master Bruce;" someone who liked the room temperature a few degrees cooler than normal, someone who liked their bed turned down, even if they never used it, someone who needed that careful eye before going out on dates, or to other social functions. In short, a parent figure who does anonymous gifts of kindness like sweeping for cobwebs in the Batcave, doing the laundry, or leaving warm drinks in a cozy atmosphere without being asked to.

Once both Bruce and the kid were situated, Bruce called his mind to task. He must, he mused, be more tired than he thought, if his brain was so easily distracted once again. Gahh! He was doing it again. This was not normal. Maybe, it was-later. He would figure this out later. He picked up his mug, and used it as a focal point for the kid, who was also contemplating his drink. "You start." The kid, not really focusing on the here and now, flinched, and his drink almost sloshed over the edges of his cup. "What?" That was the kid's voice, and most definitely the first time he had spoken all night: rusty from disuse, it was almost unrecognizable. "A question for a question," Bruce repeated himself, "you start." The kid's eyes darted all over the place as if, now that the time was actually at hand, he had no idea what question to ask first. Finally his eyes settled on the huge Wayne portrait that dominated the room and commanded the viewer's attention.

"Who are they?" Bruce grimaced, he really needed to find a more out of the way place for that picture.

"Those, are my parents." Usually, that was all he needed to say, everyone knew the story of Bruce Wayne, and how he became the _boy _billionaire. But for his seemingly clueless ward, he realized, he would finally have to tell the story, and relive the memories. "They died when I was just a kid." His throat began to close up, and he worked to reopen it, strived for the cold merciless tones of Batman, simply reciting the facts. "Joe Chill. He was one of the first mob bosses I took down. A small one, who worked his way up from a simple hitman and petty mugger. But back then, I didn't care about the crime in the real world. I was eight. All I cared about was the bad guy in the movie and how the hero would save the day. We had seen one that night. On the way out,… my parents," a deep breath, and another one,"…my parents were killed while he was trying to take their valuables. A cheap pearl necklace, and some left-over cash. A simple holdup, they happened all the time. But my father couldn't stand the injustice….He made his move." His voice finally became pure Batman "And Chill made his. He didn't even get the money or jewels, he ran off while I began crying, and calling for help. But my parents were beyond help." A mirrored tightening of the kid's facial expression, and a lowered glance confirmed Bruce's suspicions. This kid had also seen those closest to him die. "A few days later, the portrait was finished. It's the last picture of us together, as a family." Bruce gave himself a few moments to wallow in the memories, then allowed the curiosity to drag him back out. What should his question be? How about, ahh.

"So." It was surprisingly hard to break the silence "My turn. Why are you here?"

The kid looked rather confused at the question. Well, obviously. Any scheme concocted by the girl was bound to be illogical and totally spur of the moment. To give the girl credit though, she seemed to have told the kid something, judging from the wry smile on his face.

"Well," Bruce prompted.

"Apparently," the kid almost drawled, "I was at a crossroad in my life and I was about to be forced into a really stupid and dumb path that would ultimately lead me to nowhere."

Inwardly, Bruce sighed. Here he had opened up to the kid, and the kid had given him some vague answer that sounded like it came out of a fortune cookie. A really depressing fortune cookie.

"And" Wait. Maybe this was the breakthrough. The kid did seem nervous. He was rubbing his free hand on the left side of his neck. The self-deprecating smile had also disappeared. "Apparently, my actions were going to hurt those closest to me, the only ones I have left. But by coming here, I could circumvent that part of my fate, while still learning what I need to achieve my goal.

Bruce made a very non-committal, all-knowing mentor sort of noise, while his detective mind was trying to hear what the kid would not say. What kind of goal required learning the skills of Batman? And the kid was still rubbing his neck; Bruce hadn't noticed anything before but then again, it had only been a cursory check for any tale-telling or identifying marks. Anyway, the kid seemed to be done with his answer, so time for the next logical question.

"Why Batman?"

Logic had not failed him. Rejoice! and yet… Great. Another difficult question to answer. Yes, he had had a terrible childhood experience, but otherwise, life was incredibly easy. Why did he risk life and limb every night? Why bother keeping the streets clean? He was no cop, just a rich boy still trying to save his parents.

On the other hand, if he didn't do it, who would? Who could?

Bruce took his time in answering. "A part of it, is I still feel like I am trying to save my parents. That every captured crook, every drug bust, every stopped shipment of contraband, means one less person has to go through the pain of loosing their parents. Of seeing loved ones die before their horrified and helpless eyes." Shadows settled about Bruce's face, a trick of the flames, the shadows became a mask. "If you stay long enough kid, some minor low-life will end up becoming a major criminal. And you will be witness to their descent into insanity, terrorism and crime. The media will blame you, because the public opinion is sometimes swayed into thinking that without me, a portion of Arkham's inmates, my "rogues gallery," would never have been created. Would never have been drawn to Gotham. Do not believe that. If Batman wasn't here to stop them, who could?" A silence then, deep and pondering, and brooding silence. "Now, for my second question, I want to know what happened to _your_ family?

The kid had clearly not been anticipating a question of that sort, but probably not that exact as, as his eyes widened. Yet much like Batman, he had practice at wearing a mask. Bruce could see the slight clenching of his jaw, but other than that, he kept his composure. Good the kid was learning.

"I was on my way home from school. And the minute I stepped into the family compound I knew something was wrong. It was early, and yet it was too dark. It was too silent. And, and, there was a smell." The kid paused and he looked downward. "I didn't know it at the time, but the smell was blood. I instinctively ran towards my parent's house." The kid bitterly smiled. "As if that could make it alright, as if my mother could shelter me, as if my father would protect me. What naiveté. But still. I went running. I rounded a corner, and there were my family. My cousins, aunts, uncles. All dead. I finally made it home, and there were my parents. Dead. And the killer standing over them." The kid's fists clenched, and somehow, Bruce knew he did not want to hear the rest of the story. "It was…he said that if was for the challenge. That he left me alive because one day, I might be able to provide a challenge. He said, that I should grow stronger…more cold. It was the only way to become strong enough to kill him. Yet, I don't know if I can ever take my revenge." The mug of hot chocolate, long since drained, of both chocolate and warmth is placed on the table. "How…how can I become cold enough to kill my own brother?"

Even hardened by the years of being Gotham's vigilante could not prepare Bruce for that question. He went into shock. However, a small part of his mind that was wholly Batman and forever analytical; the part that he blocked off when he was just relaxing, was still sending messages to the brain. A message about how the kid was still rubbing his neck in that same spot. Although he had set up the rules of this impromptu question-and-answer session himself, Batman had to know. "Why do you keep rubbing your neck?"

The kid's head jerked up and his eyes met Bruce's eyes; the hand was still compulsively rubbing at the same spot. The kid's eyes widened in awareness, he flushed (completely obvious with his complexion-Bruce shushed the analytical part) and he lowered his hand from his neck. Now it was Bruce's eyes that widened. When he had first done a cursory check of the kid's body for identifying marks, there had been nothing. Nothing at all. Now, however, he could see the edges of some jet black marking, a tattoo perhaps?

No matter how much his brain had become engrossed in that tattoo, Bruce could hardly miss the answer to the question.

"During my last…field test, our village was attacked by one of its former guards and his subordinates. In order to get close to our leader, he came as representatives from a different village. I encountered him in the field test. He gave me this to mark me and as a way to call me back to his side."

What does this mark do?"

"It changes me. I can feel raw power coursing through me. It's an intoxicating experience. Finally, having the power to do the right thing"

Calm, Bruce had to remain calm. "Power isn't everything, you know."

Another wry smile. "I know. But it helps me to achieve my goal."

Bruce was shocked. Batman was stunned, but getting angry. Why would Karmen have sent him here if only power, killing, and revenge were his goals? Karmen knew the rules, knew his oath. And it was disappointing, because the kid has shown so much potential. Later, he would have to call Karmen to take the kid back to…back to wherever it was he came from. This wouldn't work. But right now, to break the trust and fragile bonds of a relationship, might be even more detrimental, and severing relationships would be something even Batman wasn't heartless enough to do. He could tell that the kid was finally opening up to him. If he needed a teacher who understood the calling of vengeance and still had the strength to resist it, then that is what Bruce would be.

"So, my question now." Was that a smile? The predator smelling his quarry, or the prey distracting the hunter? "Who's Tim?"

* * *

ACK! So sorry about the long long long wait. I had more, but it wasn't coming out right, and it was inducing writer's block, so I eventually just decided to put it in the next chapter.

Well that was a bit of a dead give-away, wasn't it? Ah well. The suspense was fun while it lasted. If you can guess the kid, well congratulations. As for why he seems really almost shy, its because I feel that he doesn't have a dominant personality unless he knows what the situation is. Since the entire world is new to him, it would make sense for him to be slightly more meek.

Also, I realize that while delving into Batman's thoughts, I might have missed a crucial part, or I completely messed it up. If so, please tell me and I'll do my best to fix it.

Same goes for the kid: I realize a lot has changed since I started this, and a lot has been revealed. I'm ignoring most of it. But for those who recognize the kid, if you could tell me where you are in his "world/time-line" I would know exactly what I could incorporate without ruining the plot. Also, I could give more background and such.


	6. More Drama! Oh NO!

"My turn. So, who's Tim?"

Okay, new plan. Bruce was clearly not as strong as he thought he was if one simple name, carelessly and curiously uttered could still break him. But what a difficult question. How to tell a newcomer about Tim? How could someone, even Batman, especially Batman, encapsulate a life into a few sentences? How could anyone capture the trials, tears, triumphs, and that one awful nightmarish failure that made up the second Robin? Everything that meant Tim to both Bruce Wayne and Batman.

"Robin. Is the traditional name of my partner. Tim, is, was, the second Robin. His mom left when he was young and his dad was a small time gangster who ended up at the bottom of the Metropolis River when he crossed Two-Face. Tim was told to lay low for a while, but Two-Face eventually found him. He would have been killed if I hadn't stepped in to help. I saved his life, and in quick succession, he saved mine. Together, we managed to piece together Two-Face's plan and stop him. And somehow, in the middle of it all, I began to accept Tim as the new Robin, and thus, the Dynamic Duo was reborn.

"Yet this Robin was…different. Less likely to obey my orders, more likely to bite off more than he could chew. But I always found him in time, and he always came back. Yet one night, one awful night, he didn't."

Although Bruce's speech was becoming somewhat less coherent, the kid knew not to break the storyline, that sometimes people just needed to let it all out…

"Batgirl and I scoured the city for two weeks. Tracing down every lead, but there was nothing to find, nothing to tell, and nothing to show. Until one night, we found a jack-in-the-box on a rooftop."

…No matter how strange and jumbled the story might sound to the listener.

"It was our first clue. And the second followed soon after the clichéd explosion; a straightjacket from Arkham Asylum. Everything clicked for me. I knew where Tim was and who had kidnapped him: the Joker."

Little did Bruce know that his voice had once again dipped into his Batman register.

"The fight started out as it usually did with the Joker: unpredictable. We went in there not knowing what to expect and that's exactly what we got. The Joker was set up in some cheap home stage set with Harley as the mom, and Tim-"

A beat, a pause of recollection

"Tim was their "son". You can't imagine what it was like to see Tim's face twisted into that horrible grin. To hear him laughing in such a deranged, uncontrollable way. In a blind rage, I rushed after the Joker, who still giggling made his escape to another room. I followed, leaving Batgirl to deal with Harley Quinn."

"In the next room, I didn't see the Joker immediately, but playing on a screen were horrible images of the Joker torturing Tim, slowly and painfully turning him into a little miniature version of himself. All the while, the Joker was narrating it, and then he began to laugh. And I lost it. I tackled him and we began to fight. It was just like always and yet, this time, in my rage, the Joker began to get the upper hand. He pulled a gun. And I could do nothing. Then Joker threw the gun to Tim who had followed us from the other room. Both of them laughing, always laughing. Tim looked at me, then shifter his aim slightly and shot the Joker. It took me a long moment to realize that Tim, Batman's Robin, had just shot and killed the Joker."

A moment later Batman came back to the here and now.

"Tim is still in therapy with only a small chance of recovery. He still doesn't recognize me. Every time I visit, he gets more distressed. As he should. It was all my fault."

"And that," said Bruce Wayne, looking at the kid directly, "is Tim. And now you understand what controversy your presence brings." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I cannot imagine what that girl thought would be accomplished by you coming here. Everyone already thinks I'm too cold to raise a child properly. They don't need it proven"

In the awkward silence that followed, Bruce glanced at the clock. It was getting pretty early, and now that he was calmer, bed was sounding even more like a better and better idea. To that end, he stood up.

But the kid had one more question to ask. "What does Karmen actually do here?"

Bruce smiled. "You mean besides depositing strangers into my Batcave? She's a messenger. Her ability to talk to both super-heroes and villains is very useful, as is her ability to…coordinate. To give, and get people what she thinks they need. Sometimes, she's even right."

The kid, also standing up, thoughtfully asked "I wonder why she brought me here then?"

Something clicked. That was the reason, then. Batman, resurfacing, swept up the stairs, with a parting "I don't kill" as his only good night to his ward. Alfred, summoned by the retiring of Master Bruce, appeared to gather up the mugs and one very confused apprentice.

Finally up the stairs. Strange, they never seemed this long after a full night on the town. Then again, usually, at that point, his brain was fully focused on sleeping, while today, there were so many other things to mull over.

The multitude of subjects kept him busy up until the point that he was in bed, and getting ready to turn off his light when he remembered about his absent-mindedness earlier that night.

And apparently, he was more tired than he had thought because his room now looked like a floating rock-island, (which even with Alfred's redecoration, it usually did not) and there she was. Right on time. Smiling.

"How did you know?"

"Your mental presence is rather distinguishable."

"Sorry. Yeah I suppose it would be to you. Anyway, so, I'm leaving now. For real. Like, I won't be here anymore. As in good-bye. As in I won't be able to check up on you for a while. Just leaving." Her wand beeped, and this time she just waved. And then, she dropped off the edge of a cliff. Which, a part of his brain noted, was far less impressive in a dream than in real life.

Meanwhile, while rumors of Batman and his new apprentice began to filter thought the underworld, a formerly abandoned warehouse was becoming very crowded. One by one, former cellmates of Arkham Asylum's most dangerous cell-block were coming together to honor the memory of the Joker and Harley Quinn. Of course, being the Joker, maybe 'honor' isn't the best choice of words. Perhaps they were simply coming to trade stories of the Clown Prince of Crime and his assistant, or to discuss the one year anniversary of the time the Joker went too far, and the Dark Knight responded in turn. Maybe the escaped masks just wanted some companionship now that Batman was fully patrolling again. Whatever the original reason, the meeting began with the Joker, and ended with how to finally deal with Batman.

After all, the Joker still needed a memorial service: Gotham style.

* * *

The next morning, when the kid woke up, there was a silver disk on his bedside table. Attached was the message

_Here are all the files on what the media has dubbed Batman's "rogues gallery." Please read through them all. The holidays are coming up. It's time to jumpstart your training._

_-Bruce_

_______________________________________________________________________

A/N: I'm not trying to ignore Batgirl & Nightwing. I swear I'll somehow manage to put them in and let them meet the kid.

As for the Tim as J.J. scene, sorry if some parts don't match what actually happened. Please tell me so I can correct it

As well: Sorry if I screwed up either of the characters, or the continuity.

No comment on the extreme lack of updates, but I will try to do better.

And sorry for the saturated amount of drama. Ugh.


End file.
